


what I need

by LadyKG



Category: Bleach, Naruto
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Mild angst I guess, No Angst, Well - Freeform, enjoy, i have two essays that i should be writing right now, post-canon bleach, self-indulgence brought on by my procrastination, short one-shots put together in a mockery of a story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 02:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKG/pseuds/LadyKG
Summary: The world he woke up in was strange. Filled to the brim with buildings taller than any he’d seen before – even those in Ame did not scrape the sky the same way. There were so few trees that it made something in him ache.None of it, however, made him even blink.But the monsters. The ghosts.Those give him a moment of pause.





	what I need

**Author's Note:**

> sooo... i write a lot when i'm procrastinating... nothing new. Anyway, the title for this has literally no meaning, i feel like i normally try to put meaning in the titles, but this one is literal... this fic is kinda just what I, as the author, need right now.

The world he woke up in was strange. Filled to the brim with buildings taller than any he’d seen before – even those in Ame did not scrape the sky the same way. There were machines – _cars_ he learned to call them – moving around on every road, fast and loud. There were so few trees that it made something in him ache. What was more was there were no hidden villages; shinobi seen as a thing of the past to be used in stories and legends.

None of this, however, made him pause. Kamui was a strange ability, after all, and he would be far too closed minded to think that his own dimension was the only template for a world out there.

Not even the strange layering of worlds that this dimension seemed to favor made him bat an eye – different than the layering of summon dimensions that branched like tree limbs from his own, these were like stones stacked on top of each other, somehow binding together with strings and glue. He could not open the other dimensions, his chakra sliding off the walls that separate them, but something told him he _could_. It was simply that he hadn’t figured out _how._

No, none of these strange phenomena gave him any reason to think this world was something special.

But the monsters. The ghosts.

_Those_ give him a moment of pause. The strange masked creatures were nothing like the biju of the Elemental Nations. Nothing like the summons that many shinobi could bring into battle. Their strange chakra called to him like a moth to a flame, it was how he first came across one, tracking the strange energy into a park. And whatever they must sense of him made them more than willing to return the favor. Most nights he couldn’t sleep without tucking himself into the hollow of a mokuton enhanced tree, letting the natural barriers protect him from the monsters that have _swarmed_ to the park in the last few days. (The apartment he squatted in for the first week of his stay in this world was crushed by one of the beats, the walls tearing like paper under sharp claws and their not-chakra.)

Suppressing his chakra helped, but only so much.

At least it wasn’t a war, he thought with a snort as he skirted through the forest to his most recent camp, food that he had pocked from a local store tucked safely in his weapons-pouch. He would need to find a job soon, stealing food like this wasn’t sustainable, and even if he could grow it himself the attraction that drew from the masked creatures was something to avoid.

Tomorrow, he will look for answers.

Tomorrow, he will push at those strange barriers again.

Tomorrow, he would find a job.

Tomorrow, the sun burnt bright over the horizon, drawing him out into the world from a restless night. The park that he found was close to a few shops and restaurants, as good as any place in this world to start looking for a place to make money. While he did not particularly _like_ having to cover his rinnegan and deactivate his sharingan as he moved from shop to shop to ask after work, it was easier than explaining why his eyes were red and purple.

None of them were hiring, however. And they held so little chakra that any illusion he could place would slide off with ease. All the same, genjutsu did not really _command,_ only _suggested_ that they would have a position open. If they truly didn’t then whatever position he gained would slip through his fingers the first time they paid him and realized they did not have the funds.

And so he was making his way back to the park, mind a thousand miles away, when he was forced to dodge around someone. Continuing on his way without care, or a word for the person.

“You can see me?” This made Obito pause. For all that he saw the ghosts he had yet to interact with one, nor had he been able to find any discernable difference between ghosts and those living. They were no paler, nor did they seem to have injuries from their death. This woman, however, with the shock on her face and the hope in her eyes, made it all to obvious that she had died.

Obito blinked back at the woman, feigning ignorance, “Am I not supposed to?”

The woman’s brows furrowed, “I’m dead. Everyone else just walks through me.”

“Maybe I’m dead too,” he told her, raising a brow.

The woman frowned at that, opening her mouth to say something but closing it as she changed her mind. Obito took the pause in the conversation to dismiss himself, turning on a heal and walking away. He had no intention of entertaining the dead with empty words and even emptier conversation.

Obito ignored the look that the man walking near him shot his way. He was more than used to the people of this world staring at him for his scars and white hair. More than used to the feeling of eyes digging into his back as he moved through crowds. Besides, the guy was wearing a grey and white striped bucket hat of all things, so he didn’t really have any place to judge others on their appearance.

The next few hours were passed by in his kamui dimension, the towering pillars a welcome familiarity. He pushed and prodded at the worlds around him, chakra spreading out and testing each one, only to be rejected just as he thought it would give way.

With a frustrated growl he threw himself back into Karakura Town, letting his fist connect with tree, the sting that ran up from his knuckles reminding him that this was _real._

Just as he was thinking that he wouldn’t mind a fight – anything to work out the building anger in his chest, tight and raging with the promise of destruction when his control wavered – a scream rung out from deeper in the park. A child’s scream.

Obito ran. Chakra pushing his movements into a blur as he twisted around the trees without care, jumping into the branches as a clearing came into sight and the shadowed form of a masked creature caught his uncovered eye.

The small boy running from reaching claws and eyes that glowed with hunger.

His naginata met the next swipe, blocking them as the small boy cowered on the ground, tears and snot running down his face. “Get out of here, kid.” He said, glancing back as the creature pulled away with a cry of rage.

The boy met his gaze with wide eyes, his entire body shaking in fear. Obito held in a sigh; the boy wouldn’t be moving anytime soon with his muscles locked like that. He ducked a reaching hand, and with a curse he grabbed the boy and jumped, swiping out with his naginata to ward off the creature advancing any further.

He placed the boy by the edge of the clearing, “Go,” he urged, already pushing back towards the creature. He phased through the first attack, dropping down to slide along the ground and slice through one of the _eight_ legs the creature had. Pulling at his mokuton as he came back up, vines wrapped around the remaining legs. Pushing chakra into his feet he leapt into the air, coming back down without bothering to twist away from a grabbing hand, letting kamui phase him through it so that his blade could dig deep into the white mask.

As the creature exploded into nothing another came through a tear in the sky. One that felt so much like kamui that if he just… No, there was a boy at the edge of the clearing, one that these creatures seemed intent on attacking. He took priority over Obito’s own curiosity.

With a huff he let himself be pulled up and over the beast’s head by kamui, chakra running the length of his naginata as it sliced passed reaching _tentacles_ \- of all things he has seen these creatures have, this was one of the strangest. The mask didn’t so much crack as shatter when he sliced it open.

He fell back to the grass without a sound, scanning the clearing as he made his way back towards the boy – the one that was still _here_ instead of off somewhere safe. Apparently, this world failed to teach children self-preservation. Even if he was already dead, the boy should at least understand that the creature could hurt him. He let his naginata fall back into his kamui dimension, making his way towards the boy.

“You alright, kid?” Obito asked as he squatted to be on the boy’s level, meeting large brown eyes squarely even as he sensed movement from behind him. Subtle, but not subtle enough. If they were planning on sneaking-.

“You killed them.” The boy’s voice was filled with awe, the fear the creatures had built up giving way as the threat waned.

Obito let out a breath, he may have killed those two, but experience told him there would be more on their way, “You got anywhere to go?”

The kid just stared at him, and Obito was tempted to ask again but the movement came again, this time with a flash of green in his peripheral, and Obito pulled his naginata from kamui one more without a second thought. Swinging it around and letting it settle at the throat of the man trying to sneak up behind him.

Obito narrowed his eyes, gaze snapping to the green and white striped bucket hat with dawning realization – this was the man from the market place earlier. Had he been following Obito then, too?

“Who the hell are you?” He ground out, sharingan spinning as he prepared to pull himself and the kid out of the way of an attack.

“That’s not a very nice way to greet someone,” the stranger said, not even looking phased at the blade mere inches from his throat. “And cursing in front of children, even dead ones, isn’t good manners.”

“Like spying on someone is any better?” He raised an eyebrow. So the kid was a ghost then.

“So you _did_ sense me,” the man said, eyes shining in the same way Obito remembered Orochimaru’s would when faced with a new test subject, “fascinating.”

Obito narrowed his eyes, “An academy student could sense you.” Which, okay, wasn’t actually _true_ but that was neither here nor there, and Obito wasn’t about to take the insult back.

The man titled his head as if thinking that through, as if it made sense to him, “You’re not a Shinigami, are you?”

“What?”

“And you’re not dead, despite what you told that nice soul at the market. So what are you?”

“Pissed off.” He ground out; where the hell did this guy get off asking if he was a Shinigami, and how did he know Obito wasn’t one of those ghosts? Did Shinigami mean something different in this world than in his…

“Never heard of that species before, mister…” the man said with a cheer that made Obito want to strangle him. Still, he remained silent at the clear request for a name. “I’ll just call you Shiro.”

“Don’t call me anything,” he seethed. Obito felt two signatures appear at the edge of the clearing, and it took everything in him to not simply use kamui to disappear. He wasn’t sure if the kid would be able to come with him, being a ghost and all, and he didn’t want to leave him alone with the blonde.

“Oi, Hat-and-clogs, what are you doing here?” One of the signatures called out, and Obito shifted just enough to put all three of them into his line of sight. He was tempted to take off the eye-patch, but he had fought with one eye for most of his life, he wasn’t about to let these three the better of him just because he’d rather keep a trump card.

A shock of orange hair came into view, followed closely by blue. It was strange, really; the elemental nations had its fair share of quirks in terms of looks, but he hadn’t seen the same in this world beyond the masked creatures. Had, apparently wrongly, thought that it didn’t have anything similar. Their clothes were equally as unusual, almost like they had stepped out of a movie set in the founder’s era that dealt with samurai.

“Ah, great timing you two,” the man replied, and Obito took note that the man was careful not to give their names away. “I was just investigating the hollow disappearances when I ran into Shiro here.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, tightening his grip on his naginata.

“Who’s the kid?” The orange haired one came over, but his gaze was following the weapon in Obito’s grip, his own hand resting on the sword at his side.

“A soul that Shiro here saved from a couple of hollows.” The blonde waved off easily, meeting the orange samurai’s gaze and seemingly having an entire conversation with the look. But Obito didn’t focus on that, instead taking note of the fact he now had a name for the strange creatures that kept attacking him. Hollows. Strangely, it seemed fitting. Their odd, not-chakra felt empty, after all.

“Right,” he said, running a hand through orange locks, “well, I might as well send him on.” The orange samurai stepped forward, clearly in an attempt to get to the kid. Obito scowled, the motion pulling at his scars as he nudged the roots beneath them to move. To grow and twist and protect.

A spike of wood shot out from the ground, forcing the samurai to dodge and dodge _fast,_ the man performing something so close to a shunshin that it made him think he had seen it wrong. But no. The blue haired man had performed the same movement, bringing himself right next to the samurai, sword drawn, and eyes narrowed.

“Now, now, Shiro, no need to that,” the blonde said, but the grip the man had on his cane had shifted and everything in him told Obito that was no ordinary piece of wood. “We’re trying to help him move on, you see. If he doesn’t then he’ll turn into a hollow.”

Obito wanted to say the man was lying, wanted to snap and lash out and fight… but he _wasn’t_ lying. He was a shinobi, damn it, knew when someone was lying, and this man wasn’t. He was a shinobi, and he was new to this world, didn’t know everything there was to know – so really, there was no way to be completely certain the man was telling the truth, but if the boy behind him really was a ghost then it wasn’t like he could be killed twice, right? And if they pulled anything then Obito would just kill them.

With slow but deliberate movements he withdrew his naginata, stepping to side just enough that the boy was in view, but still close enough to stop anything should something go wrong.

The orange haired samurai didn’t step forward again, instead the blonde did. His movement just as broadcasted as Obito’s. It wasn’t until he brought his cane up and pressed one end of it to the boy’s forehead that it really sunk in how different this world was.

A flash of light later and the boy was gone, as if he had never been there at all, the only question was where he went.

“I sent him to Soul Society,” the blonde answered as if Obito had asked it outload.

“Soul Society?”

“The afterlife,” the orange samurai called out in explanation.

Obito blinked, so it was like the pure land, then. And that would mean, “You’re Shinigami.”

A real one. The kind that sent on souls and took care of the dead. It was strange, Obito thought, compared to the Shinigami in his dimension these seemed rather human.

“Yes,” the blonde said, gaze calculating as it scanned his face.

The blue haired man snorted, arms crossing, “I’m an arrancar, don’t lump me in with the shitty Shinigami.”

The orange haired _Shinigami_ elbowed the arrancar, “Shut it, Grimm.”

“You know what we are,” the blonde said, drawing Obito’s attention again, “it’s only fair you tell us what you are.”

Obito opened his mouth to tell the man exactly where he could shove that, but stopped. These were the first people he’d met that could actually tell him anything about what the creatures were. The first people to give him more information on this world, and they obviously would have more. Giving them his name and telling them he’s a shinobi wouldn’t hurt – they probably wouldn’t even believe him about the last bit.

He scanned his gaze over the three once more before snorting, with a push of chakra his naginata disappeared in kamui; a peace offering if nothing else. “Obito, resident shinobi.”

“Shinobi as in a ninja?” Ichigo asked, though he sounded more confused than disbelieving.

“Yes, shinobi as in ninja.” Obito just barely managed to not roll his eyes, instead leveling the group with a flat stare.

“Well, mister shinobi, how would you like a job?”

“What?” Obito said at the same time as the orange haired Shinigami did.

“Urahara Kisuke,” the man said, “humble candy shop owner looking for an extra pair of hands, I’ll even throw in food and a place to stay.”

Obito narrowed his eyes, did the man really think he was that stupid? Like hell he was asking because he was hiring. The creepy bastard just wanted to keep an eye on an unknown, on something _new._ And Obito couldn’t blame him, really, because he would have done the same thing. Besides, this… this worked in his favor, in a way. These people understood this world, and he could use that to his advantage. And, if he was being honest, a place to stay that wasn’t his kamui dimension or a hollowed-out tree sounded nice.

“Fine.”

 

 

 

Urahara, at least, hadn’t lied about owning a candy shop, not that the place looked like it got much by way of business. A front of some kind, then. Not that Obito really expected anything else.

The other two, Ichigo and Grimmjow, had followed them to the shop, though they slipped off to somewhere deeper in the building the second they arrived. Obito watched them go, not entirely sure if he should find it suspicious or not considering the fact Ichigo practically wore his heart on his sleeve. Even from the rather short conversation they had on the way here Obito could tell the kid was almost painfully straight forward and open.

“Tea?” Urahara offered, a fan appearing in his hand.

Obito simply hummed noncommittedly, taking in the simple shop, eyes landing almost immediately on a cat. Obito tilted his head, the cat meeting his eyes with a mark of intelligence that he’d only ever seen in summons. Did Shinigami also have summons?

“Tea it is.”

“Didn’t take you for a cat person.” Obito called out, before saying for the cat, “What’s your name?”

“And I didn’t take you for a crazy person who talks to cats.” Urahara shot back.

“Don’t take me for an idiot. This cat has chakra,” Obito said, watching in interest as the cat’s eyes sharpen further at that. He isn’t sure they call is chakra in this world, the energy that he can feel. It doesn’t have the same taste to it, the same weight, as chakra does, but it is there all the same. To call it by another name won’t change that.

“Oh, Kisuke, I like this one.”

He held in a snort, raising his eyebrow instead; the cat was clearly expecting a response. Civilians in the elemental nations who had never seen summons would often scare at the presence of a talking animal, it was probably the same for this world.

“Wonderful!” Urahara’s cheerful voice followed his entrance back into the room. “I’ve hired him.”

“Dragging in more strays?” The cat said, meeting Obito’s eyes the entire time.

“I’m not a stray.”

If cats could smirk Obito’s pretty sure this one would be.


End file.
